ODE III.

"E xalt, exalt, the Heavenly Gates, Ye chiefs of mighty name! The Lord and King of all things waits, Enrob’d in earthly frame." So to the higher seats they cry, The humbler legions of the sky.

F or Adam’s sake, by Serpent-guile Distress’d, deceiv’d, o’erthrown, Thou left’st Thy native Home awhile, Thou left’st the Father’s Throne: Now he is deck’d afresh with grace, Thou seek’st once more the Heavenly place.

H er fetters of the barren womb it rent, It crush’d the malice of the insolent, The cry of her—the prophetess, who brought A contrite spirit, and a humble thought To Him, Who bids His Throne by earnest prayer be sought.